


Honey and Potatoes

by mini_puffs



Series: In Hindsight [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Oneshot, Potato Farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mini_puffs/pseuds/mini_puffs
Summary: The night before the festival, Techno finds them on his potato farm.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: In Hindsight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979266
Comments: 10
Kudos: 289





	Honey and Potatoes

One of the first things Techno notices is that there’s no goddamn library on the SMP, especially in Pogtopia. Not a single book or shelf besides the ones in villages and he doesn’t want to show his face there more than he already has. The memories of his last visit are hazy, but he does recall slicing a guy’s arm off and monsters storming the whole place seconds later. Villages man. Techno’s never going back there again.

Either way, it looks like he’ll have to pay one a visit soon. Techno closes a chest with a loud thud, echoing throughout the cave walls. A bat screeches in response as he continues his quest for literature. Everybody should be asleep and he aims his crossbow at the bat’s head, the arrow cleanly slicing through it and silencing the rest of its screams.

Never too late for bloodshed. He kicks its body to the side once it falls, his stomach growling. 

Huh. Between the last-minute grinding and running all over the world, he never stopped for food. His potato farm isn’t far and he hops down a ledge to stroll through the entrance, making sure to close the door behind him. Can’t have any intruders—

“Technoblade?”

Whatever God is out there hates him. 

Within a second, Techno has his crossbow out, pointed right at the trespasser. The cavern reeks of fresh dirt and a potato falls out of the figure’s arms into the water with a splash, their head snapping up. “Woah,” Tubbo says. They tilt their head to the side and blink. “Hello. Be careful where you point that thing.” 

Techno lowers it. “Tubbo.”

“Techno!” He echoes with a smile bright enough to light the cave. “Nice farm you’ve got here.”

“Uh.” It’s like midnight. Why is one of the children here. What the heck. He’s not that responsible of an adult, dear god. “Thanks,” Techno says, at a complete loss.

A potato rolls across the dirt, stopping at the edge of a new row. Most of them are ready to be harvested and the one Tubbo’s standing on is empty, but the freshly disturbed soil assures him there’s definitely something buried under there. Maybe crops, maybe a dead body. He doesn’t judge. If his potatoes taste funny, he knows who to blame.

Come to think of it, Tommy’s been awfully quiet. He hasn’t heard from him in a few hours and last he checked, the two of them were outside trying to gather materials for the festival. The fricking festival. He doesn’t even know half the people here and they expect him to attend. Bruh. No wonder they call it an SMP—the P stands for pain.

“They are?”

“What?” Techno snaps his head up. Tubbo stares back blankly. “Who’s ‘they?’” He asks, trying to rack his brain for memories of the previous conversation.

None come to mind. Useless brain. “Your potatoes,” Tubbo answers for him. Holding one up, they squint and hand it to him to inspect. “Are they poisoned or anything?”

“No.” He did not farm for almost a year to be accused of having poisoned crops. “Do you want them to?” 

“No, no,” he says quickly, waving his hands in front of his face. “I just wanted to check because I was thinking of using them for the festival tomorrow since we don’t exactly have any food and you said you had a lot of them--”

They lost him the moment they brought up the festival. Techno nods anyway, eyes drifting all over the farm. He crouches by the dirt and runs a hand through it. Mud clings to his palms and after seeing the few bits of potato buds, he covers them back up. “Did you—did you replant them yourself?” He stares at Tubbo. 

They shrug and take a bite out of a raw potato. “Yeah?”

Perhaps the next generation isn’t as screwed as he thought. Techno inhales. “Give me the potatoes,” he says. “They taste much better when they’re baked.”

* * *

  
  


Flames lick the top of the furnace as he pulls a tray out of it, sizzling while the fire crackles. Techno places their food on top of the makeshift table where Tubbo reaches for it in an instant. 

“You were hungry?” He concludes. They’ve practically gone through three sacks worth of potatoes. The kid’s growing, but Techno rarely ate that much when he was that age. 

“Starving,” Tubbo chirps. He devours another potato in one bite. 

Techno tries not to look horrified. “Couldn’t you have gone to a restaurant or something?” 

He shakes his head, still chewing. “All closed,” he says. “Me and Tommy went to all of them. They’ll open up once the festival’s over. Besides,” he adds a moment later, “I wanted to visit and you’re always busy.”

Normally, he wouldn’t feel bad about that but it’s Tubbo and they haven’t exactly done anything to make him reach that level yet. Guilt rises in Techno’s throat and he leans his head against the wall, the cool stone knocking some sense back into him. He’s honestly forgotten why they’re both here in the first place and eats a potato as well, the heat burning his tongue and an extra reminder he’s not going anywhere. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“You’re coming tomorrow though, right?” Tubbo presses on. “To the festival?”

It’s not like he has a choice. “Yeah.”

They smile before swallowing another potato whole. Techno looks away and focuses on finishing his. He can count on one hand the number of times they’ve had a conversation with each other without anyone else, and those times were either fighting or eating. Here it’s the latter, and with the silence stretching thin over them, Techno has never wished for chaos so much in his life before. There’s something about being in a life or death situation that makes everybody quick to communicate. Violence is the only universal language and it has no place in small talk.

Tubbo’s talking again. Something about the festival again, and he grins and makes millions of hand motions Techno can’t keep up with. Most people, most children, would crack under the pressure of working under their tyrannical president as a spy. Most wouldn’t even be spies and crack under the sheer pressure itself. But Tubbo’s held on far longer than Techno would’ve imagined, and they still have the strength to smile every day.

Techno reaches for another potato. He’s supposed to be eating, not having whatever mental breakdown in his mind. Either way, hunger is a strange thing. Like violence, it’s understood by all, but more of a need than a way to speak. They’re all hungry for something, whether it be power or peace. One of his recent chats with none other than their notorious leader helped him understand that--Wilbur’s starving for justice, and he’s blinded by it to the point where he doesn’t realize he’s feeding himself something that won’t satiate his appetite. Techno swallows his potato and grabs another. If anything, he’s hungry for this.

“We should add honey,” Tubbo says, standing up. He takes one of the trays out of the furnace and takes a bottle out of his pocket, drizzling it over the potatoes. “I read somewhere that it’ll make them taste better.”

He pursued a degree in English, not the culinary arts. Techno shrugs and lets them. If it makes them happy, sure. 

Ten minutes later and Techno’s grabbing the finished potatoes, honey dripping down his fingers. He licks it off as he bites into them. As expected, the honey makes them sweeter, but Tubbo must have added something else because the saltiness balances it out, and Techno reaches for another one. “Hm,” he hums.

He never says it, but they probably know all the same. Tubbo’s been reading Tommy’s body language and compared to him, Techno must be a walk in the park. “You know what? We should move some of my bees here after the festival. Schlatt doesn’t check on them,” he adds, after seeing Techno’s concern. “He won’t notice.”

It’s almost strange how he hasn’t noticed yet. Schlatt’s a lot of things, and oblivious is not one of them. 

But, as Tubbo tilts his head to the side and stares at him with a smile and gaze that says he’d trust him with his life, Techno decides to file that away for another day. He ruffles the kid’s hair and lets the smile spread on his face, chuckling softly. “Okay,” he says. “After the festival, then. We can rally up a bee army or something.”

“Yes!” Tubbo cheers. “A bee army--oh my god, that’d be amazing, holy shit--”

Maybe a bee army, maybe a bee farm. “Tubbo.”

They stop mid-sentence. “Yeah?”

~~_“Kill him. Kill him right now, on this fucking stage!”_ ~~

Techno blinks. Huh. “Never mind,” he says hastily, dismissing it with a hand. That’s weird. “The bats were just screaming over you.”

~~_“I’ll make it as painless as possible, Tubbo.”_ ~~

Tubbo shrugs it off. “Well, it’s late,” they yawn, getting up from the table. “I’m going to hit the hay. See you at the festival?” 

Nodding, Techno drums his fingers against the table and chews on another honeyed potato. “I’ll see you at the festival,” he confirms.

_~~And only one of them saw each other after.~~ _

**Author's Note:**

> I know that’s not how furnaces work but EHHH


End file.
